


And I would be the one to hold you down kiss you so hard

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [71]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Glory Hole, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, Masturbation, Obsessive Behavior, Semi-Public Sex, Stalking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 21:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18725242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Jack has to figure out where Brock's been going at night.





	And I would be the one to hold you down kiss you so hard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ineswrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineswrites/gifts).



> To my delightful wife-to-be. This turned out less creepy than I had planned, I'm so sorry! But hopefully you like it nonetheless. I've never written glory holes and I had a bigger idea set up in my head but I didn't have time to plot it out right, this was also after 2 other failed ideas related to eating dead people and awkward Jack's that my brain wasn't agreeing with so I really hope I did fine lol 💙 I love you, Happy Birthday. 💙

Jack had followed him hoping to find out what had caused his daily routine to divert.  Occasionally he’d been later getting home from work or leaving after dinner for somewhere to be but recently it was getting to be a little too much for Jack’s liking.

The seedy club wasn’t really a surprise, nor was the fact that the reason Brock was out was because he was getting his mouth fucked in a trashy bathroom stall surrounded by dim lights and lingering smells of things Jack really didn’t want to think about. His mind was mainly mulling over how if Brock asked nicely, Jack would have been glad to provide that for him himself.

He slips into the first stall, Brock in the middle and the stranger he’s entertaining is in the last.  He can’t help draw a hand down the front of his jeans, a small amount of pressure with the heel against his cock, clothing suddenly feeling much too restrictive.  The air around him felt too warm, too intense and it only gets worse when Brock hums along the loud slick sounds of some guy’s dick working in and out of that perfect mouth of his.  He wonders how many people have heard him at it like this before him, at least one man left the restroom before he arrived. His eyes flick back to the wall when there’s a short, jarring sound of Brock choking, his breathing labored.

"Fuck, look at you go.  Got such an incredible little mouth." The guy in the next stall pants, and Jack shifts his gaze just slightly over the dividers to the toiletl at the end, the one taking all of Brock’s time. 

He feels he should be quite possibly be jealous but he’s not, never has been when he knows who he comes home to.  He does agree with the rather obvious but accurate statement though, can only imagine how much better it looks when his mouth is being used like it is.  He imagines Brock on his knees for him, ready and willing, impatiently waiting. Jack would love to drag it out, maybe have him suck a couple of fingers at first just to warm him up, mess up his hair a little too because he always has to have it so just right all the time.  Make him whine, demand it-

The thought drops away when there’s a loud grunt, a press of hand against the wall inside the bathroom stall of the stranger.  “You’re so good baby, but that’s enough. Turn around, let me get some of that ass of yours.”

Jack’s mouth goes dry, one hand presses against the side of his wall knowing how close Brock is, to hear everything better.

Brock makes an eager, excited sound and soon there’s a wet pop of his mouth slipping off of the man’s cock to get himself situated.

There's a sudden bang right where his ear is pressed and Jack doesn’t flinch.  Brock braces his hands hard against the flimsy polymer and it’s a gesture that causes Jack’s heartbeat to jackrabbit.  They’re less than an inch apart, the distinct sound of his military grade boots that he affectionately favors scrapes along worn tile describing in detail how Brock’s bent himself over, legs spread just right for his stranger.

A thrill of excitement he’s sure Brock also feels, zips up his spine.

Jack wants to take a peek, see if he’s only wearing his jeans down around his legs or if he’s stripped off his shirt and leather jacket.  He likes the idea he hasn’t, ready for something quick before he’s off again, walking away like nothing had happened. It’s hotter thinking of it like that.  Jeans tight, pulled open and just barely hanging off his thighs, his shirt bunched up around his stomach. His abs peek out under fabric, glistening in a light sheen of sweat and it’s all he makes sure of because he can’t be bothered with anymore details, he’s too desperate to get himself filled up just right.

There’s a hum of satisfaction, a lewd squelch of fingers feeling him out.  It’s loud against the ear Jack’s pressed in and resonates through his entire being.

“Mm, so eager to get fucked, aren’t you?”

_Yes._ Jack mouths.

“Need it.” Brock whines, words pressed into wall before him, his forehead must be resting there and Jack feels it against his cheek.  They’re so temptingly close he can almost sense the warmth of his skin.

His hand slips downward again, grinding his heel in before he pulls away.  He can’t distract himself while he’s got a front row seat to the show, has to remember every single detail, recall all of it for later. 

Jack can hear shifting around and then Brock makes a noise when the man pushes in, a keen- slightly pained sound in his throat that causes him straighten up a little.  It tapers into something more desperate, more whimpered and pleased, a soft _oh_ slipping out as he’s beginning to take all that he’s offered.

This adds a whole new dynamic to their relationship, the fact that Brock is so desperate for cock he has to find it in public places like this, spreads his legs so beautifully and takes it like he can’t get enough.

It doesn’t help that whoever is in the other stall is fucking him like he’s not holding back.  He’s driving into him hard and fast. The divider wall rattles slightly at every thrust and Brock makes small punched out noises every time he does, grunts pressed into the polymer and Jack finds it’s the soft _ah’s_ that distract him the most, slipping into his ear like it’s their dirty little secret.

Jack’s cock aches for attention, urges him to touch himself.  He wants to give in and spit into his hand, fuck into the wet grip of his fingers in beat to how Brock is getting pounded right next to him, but he can't risk that.  Not here. Not right now.

Brock slides a little further down the wall, his hand making the plastic squeal softly, and it’s immediate how much better he’s liking this because now he's sounding a lot louder and desperate, throwing any ounce of caution he had to the wind.  He's practically sobbing over it.

" _Ah fuck-  right there.  Harder._ " Brock demands, begs for it, and Jack should go now.  He’s lingered much too long.

“C’mon, know..ya got in in ya- " Brock groans out through what sounds like grit teeth, sounds like he’s familiar with the stranger he’s with but Jack would know if he was.

Jack brushes it aside and carefully undoes the lock on his stall door to sneak out and draw him back out in the open. 

A quick peek confirms from under Brock’s stall door that he has indeed only undone his jeans enough to give access but also that he’s being pushed onto his toes from the force of the thrusts, a barely noticeable tremble in his stance.

No one else is in the bathroom besides them, the throbbing pulsating sound of the music trying to slip into the room in an attempt to drown out the needy noises and Jack’s a little surprised there’s not a bigger audience.

He’s almost to the exit, ready to leave when Brock lets out a loud cry, his hand slapping at the wall.

“ _Fuck-_ Jack, _Jack_ \- "

Jack’s hand hovers over the door handle but he turns back.  He knows he hasn’t been discovered, a small hopeful smile peeking at his lips, frozen over the intent behind saying his name.  It couldn’t have been coincidence.

_He read the letter._

It was a foolish mistake on his part.  One he keeps thinking about over and over again.  He slipped into the house like he always did when he knew Brock was away, laid out on his bed and contemplated towards the ceiling like he was sure he did a lot of nights, and that’s when the idea struck him to write a note.  Nothing too long, just something nice. That he was thinking of him, has been since that one fateful meeting at the coffee shop. He just couldn’t get him out of his mind and can’t help himself with paying a few dozen visits.

He left his first name down at the bottom, placed it on the nightstand.

If he was waiting for a reaction to it, he hadn’t gotten one, that is until now.

Brock carries on, evidently unaware of his audience.

“J-Jack, gonna need to cum- "

The stranger he’s with grunts a sound of affirmation and then keeps on fucking into him.

Jack wonders what he’s been missing, lurking and watching but never being anything but a ghost besides that one time.  Wonders how many times Brock’s moaned like a slut, Jack’s name on his lips while he’s fucking himself or getting fucked by someone else.

It’s _his_ name he chooses to say while getting dicked in some nameless club with a nameless stranger and imagining it’s him doing it, his mind lingers a moment but he’s pulled back in when he hears the sharp cry-

And then Brock cums.

He sounds utterly gorgeous.  He doesn’t hide himself at all and even from here, Jack can hear every shrill whine laced underneath his moans and shudders of breath.

His cock twitches in his own jeans, reminds him of his own needs and part of him wants to shove his way into the far end stall and take over fucking into him. 

He doesn’t.  The hard slide of the bolt unlocking reminds him he was trying to leave, he gathers his wits and finally does that, takes off through the crowds, only stopping when he slips out the side door and into the alleyway outside.

It’s only when he finds a space between two large dumpsters and tucks away there that he hastily undoes his jeans and pulls himself out.  He’s already so close as he spits into his hand, giving himself a few firm strokes.

He thinks about Brock laid out on his bed in his place, ass up and eager for it.  Wants to mark him up and make sure he knows no one else has to be there to be his surrogate, that he’ll be available whenever he needs him to be.  Wants to be whatever he wishes, just as long as Brock is his forever.

Jack thinks about spreading him out on his back, the slick glide of his cock steadily moving in and out while his legs wrap tight around his body.  Beneath him Brock is panting and looking utterly debauched and taken apart. He can’t help but lean forward and kiss him.

It’s what makes Jack groan low, toes curling within his shoes and he cums so hard against the abrasive brick wall that he has to press his free hand along it to brace himself from falling forward.

He’s panting, head ducked down and catching his breath, barely managing to tuck himself in and wipe his hand against the side of the dumpster lid that he suddenly hears the flick of a zipper much too close to be someone just stepping out right then.  Whoever it was had been watching at some point in the time it took to shoot off in this shitty alleyway and he turned around, his hand wiping the last remnants of himself against the leg of his jeans only to come face to face with Brock.

He was still flushed, clothes a little rumpled but he’s lighting his smoke and taking a drag, staring at him for a long, careful moment, clearly sizing him up and Jack only stares back at him.

Brock’s gaze trailed to the mess against the dumpster, brows expectantly waiting for something more.

“Enjoy the show?” Jack finally asks, slipping out of his awed silence, and Brock’s brows go a notch higher, drawing the cigarette again from those reddened lips and yeah, they really were perfect.

“Should be askin’ ya the same shit.” Is all he gets back.

He’s not about to start apologizing for maybe being a little _too_ interested in him, but before he can even comment, Brock holds out the lit cigarette as his head ducks away to blow some more smoke out.  Jack accepts it and takes his own drag before he offers it back, watches how Brock focuses on his mouth and he wonders just how much he’s been paying attention since that fateful day.

“You and I, we got a lot to talk about.”

Jack supposes they do as Brock’s already turning and beginning his venture out of the dark alleyway, flicking ashes and blowing a cloud of smoke off into the sky. 

He can’t help the small grin creep across his lips as he follows after him, already willing to fall in line like he’s always done before tonight.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title: Sarah McLachlan – Possession
> 
> PS - Thanks Carpe/Bones/Hydra trash for encouraging my highly insecure ass. 💙


End file.
